Double Attack
by Dibsthe1
Summary: Dib enters a chess tournament, but none of his classmates care. Will anybody show up to encourage him? . . . Read author's notes please and thank you. I have a question.


_(A/N) I've received some reviews lately... one of which was actually civil, thank you... questioning my choice of subject matter. _

_If I was writing Dib vs Zim all the time, would anybody be pointing that out to me? I doubt it. _

_In my eyes, Gaz is much more the villain than the incompetent and occasionally ambivalent Zim EVER was. Even Zim has been known to pull his punches and admit that he needs the opposition Dib provides. _

_In contrast, Gaz is only too efficient and never shows Dib even the faintest glimmer of mercy. In Battle Dib, she viciously backstabs him every chance she gets over no more than a scrap of pizza. In Taster of Pork, Dib makes a stomach-turning spectacle of himself groveling and slobbering for mercy on her behalf, but this makes not a whit of difference to GAZ; she throws him to the wolves without a second thought. Canon alone holds countless other examples, but these two have to be the ugliest. _

_An attack by an alien invader bent on destroying his planet is something Dib expects and can prepare for. However, such treachery from within one's own family has to be the most poisonous thing there is, in or out of fiction. I will even go so far as to declare that Dib's biggest challenge has nothing to do with Zim; it's to learn to see that thing for what it really is: a "sister" in his own mind only. _

_I've always been open to constructive criticism... CIVILLY WORDED constructive criticism... so here's the Dib fic I was asked for. Now, I have a question. _

_Needless, senseless, utterly brutal Dib torture is posted here on a daily basis. In addition to this, just about every single IZ fic, comedy, drama, or science fiction, long, short, and in-between that even mentions Gaz describes a far more spiteful, vicious, bloodthirsty and lethal bitch than she ever was in canon. And I for one am so sick of all those constant, neverending, moth-eaten, threadbare, worn out, Thing-Which-Will-Not-Die mentions of a "big head" that I hesitate to acknowledge them even in this context. _

_Here's my question: In a fandom bloated to bursting with all of that, how did anybody even notice my viewpoint... my very much in the minority viewpoint... that the villain is actually Gaz?_

_This joke helps me make some sense of the situation:_

A police officer pulls a motorist over for speeding even as many, and very much faster, cars continue to rocket on by.

"Do you know why I pulled you over?"

"I do indeed, officer; you couldn't catch anybody else!"

_Oh yeah, the fic. Don't own it, yadda yadda yadda..._

**Double Attack**

The 3:00 bell rang. Finally relieved from the boredom of classes, Dib whipped around in his seat, threw his books in his backpack and strode out of the classroom before Zim could distract him. He then headed straight for the gymnasium.

Dib had never before been exactly eager to enter this room; his visits to it nearly always ended in defeat at the hands of the jocks and cheap laughter from the rest of the class. Today, however, it would be different; today the gymnasium would be the site of a competition in mental ability.

That morning when Ms. Bitters had read the announcement that Dib would be doomed to represent the skool in the chess tournament, the class (well, the part of it that even heard her) booed loudly. Sadly, Dib was only too aware that his classmates didn't like him, so this came as no surprise. Still, it hurt.

"Go to the gym immediately after skool," Ms. Bitters continued reading. "Dib, you are doomed to be beaten by Fred Nerdlinger. Don't say I didn't tell you it would happen. Class, take out your math books and do page 23..." Groans were heard. "Yes, again. Some people still missed a few questions yesterday."

As soon as Dib had found out about the chess tournament two weeks previously, he had jumped at the chance to try his chess playing skills against something other than a computer.

Of course, nothing could match the satisfaction of beating Zim, but as Zim thought this chess tournament had something to do with "chests," facing him even in an elimination round was out of the question. So with Dib as its only student who even knew how to play chess, the skool had no choice but to allow him to compete if they wanted a shot at winning.

As Dib now stepped into the gym the unmistakable smell sank into his nostrils, bringing with it countless unhappy memories. Once again reminded that no other student of this skool was interested in playing anything that didn't involve a ball, Dib could feel his exuberance begin to fade, to be replaced by creeping tendrils of doubt. Representing the skool only by default made it hard to gauge just how good at chess he really was.

After signing in at the table set up just inside the door, Dib glanced around. The gym looked about the same as it always did, except more teachers were milling around inside, and a large mat had been placed in the very center. A table and two chairs stood on the mat, with a sign in the middle of the table. This skool's colors faced this side of the gym; Dib figured that the opposing skool's colors had to be facing the other side.

Chattering spectators filled the top half of the bleachers on the other side of the gym, several of them standing up and taping a huge sign to the wall over the bleachers. Even from the other end of the gym, Dib could clearly read the words, "GO FRED NERDLINGER!"

Dib didn't expect that anybody from his class had showed up, but he would gladly settle for a stranger cheering for him simply because they went to the same skool. Looking up eagerly at the bleachers on his side of the gym, Dib could see a few kids scattered here and there, but they were far from interested. Some of them were actually reading their textbooks for once. One by one he recognized the same kids he always saw in detention whenever he and Zim landed there after school. That explained why even that many bodies were present. Dib wondered if any basketball or volleyball games played here ever had a smaller crowd for the home team than for the visitors. His face fell as he noticed that no corresponding sign greeted him from this wall.

Dib now noticed, sitting on the bottom row of the bleachers, a small group of kids who didn't look bored. One of them actually said, "Is he ever going to show up? I'm sick of waiting." His heart leaping, Dib blurted, "Here I am!" The kid who had spoken looked up... right past Dib. Presently another boy entered the gym and walked over to the bleachers, at which the kids on the bottom row stood up and they all walked right past Dib and left the gym together.

Dib's lips pressed together as he finally realized how much of his reason for entering this tournament was to get some attention that wasn't ridicule. Someday they would realize he had saved them all, but it looked like that day wouldn't be dawning any time soon. A little appreciation in the meantime would go a long way toward encouraging him in his lonely struggle, but it was as if Dib wasn't even here.

Dib's anticipation was ebbing away rapidly. This would not be all that different from just playing chess on his computer after all. He looked wistfully towards the excited crowd on the other side of the gym, and his time noticed quite a few parents among them. Even though he knew better than to expect to see his own father, his eyes made a quick sweep of his own side for that unmistakable lightning bolt of black hair... just in case...

Suddenly he recognized Gaz's hair. "Hey, Gaz! Thanks for coming!"

"Don't tell Dad," she growled, not bothering to glance up from her game.

Wondering who had been unlucky enough to rub Gaz the wrong way this time, Dib looked toward the knot of teachers just inside the gym door and recognized Mr. Elliot, Gaz's teacher. HE was smiling, at least.

Then Ms. Bitters whooshed up, giving Mr. Elliot the sort of frown that would wipe the smile off anybody's face except Mr. Elliot's. Hmm, maybe Mr. Elliot hadn't been smiling at him after all. Dib turned away, trying not to look at anybody.

That was when he finally noticed the small clusters of older girls sitting on the chairs which had set up next to the wall without bleachers. Some were wearing this skool's colors and holding signs and pom poms; obviously they were the cheerleaders for the skool football team. At first Dib wondered what other event was also going on, but as they began taking their formation between himself and the table, he realized with a start that they were actually there to cheer for... HIM, Dib! Nothing like this had ever happened to Dib before. Finally, someone was about to cheer him on!

Coach Walrus lifted the microphone from the registration table and announced, "Here to play on behalf of our skool, Dib Lastname!"

Taking a deep breath, Dib stepped out into the painted portion of the gym floor... and the only applause that resulted was a few polite spatters from the other side of the gym.

So... his own skool had more important things to do. Even doing homework was preferable to watching Dib compete on their behalf. Well, at least they hadn't booed. Dib now stopped hoping they would even notice him. Better to be ignored than to be put down; the last thing he needed now was a distraction.

Instead, he focused on the cheerleaders holding up their signs for him to read, signs that said things like, "Dib's our favorite!" and "GO DIB!" Not wanting to hurry this moment, Dib now walked more slowly.

"You can do this, Dib!" the cheerleaders chorused. "You're awesome, Dib! We believe in you, Dib!"

The guys on the football team were awarded this kind of recognition all the time, but for Dib, this truly was a first. With a hard blink he stopped the room from blurring; a strange feeling rose into his heart. He just hoped he would be able to concentrate on actually playing chess with so many unfamiliar sensations roaming around inside him.

"GO DIB!"

As Dib walked closer, the girls began to shout and kick; the ones at each end of the line shook their pom poms and the ones in the middle began to kick together. Dib could distinctly feel himself walking taller.

"GO DIB! GO DIB!"

_Go Dib, go Dib..._ If Dib had not heard this himself, he never would have believed anyone would ever be cheering for him like this. So THIS was what it felt like! His chest swelling, Dib allowed a smile to light up his face. He was beginning to feel as if he had already won. He could... yes, he COULD win this!

Dib thought of waving or saluting each cheerleader in turn to show just how deeply he appreciated the support. But just as he reached the first one, she cupped her hands around her mouth so that only he could hear what she said.

"GO _to hell_ DIB!!"

"HUH?" Dib staggered in sheer astonishment, and what he now saw stunned him.

Scorn now twisted the faces of his cheerleaders. Their increasingly vigorous kicks were in fact aimed directly at his face; if he were to weave just a couple of inches closer, their shoes would certainly make brutal, bloody contact.

"You can do this, Dib!" now sounded more like "You _CAN'T _do this, Dib!"

"You're awesome, Dib!" became "You're _AWFUL_, Dib!"

"We believe in you, Dib!" turned into "We'll _BE LEAVING_ you, Dib!"

Somehow, Dib forced himself to walk past that treacherous gauntlet. Reaching for his chair, he saw his hand shaking uncontrollably; he fell onto the seat just as his knees gave way.

This hurt far more than the apathy; it hurt even more than the open hatred. Just as he had given up hoping for support, it had been offered... only to be immediately snatched away. Being knifed in the back by those who were here supposedly for the sole purpose of cheering him on was devastating. Dib could no longer imagine himself winning; the final shreds of his interest in representing the skool vanished.

"And our skool's worthy opponent, Fred Nerdlinger!"

From the opposite door, Dib's opponent now entered the gym, sparking a wild outburst of applause from the kids and parents on the other side. He was tall and stocky, with greasy shoulder-length hair and a T-shirt which read "RTFM & STFU." Dib now noticed that the cheerleaders from the other skool had lined up between the Fred's entrance and the table.

They also began to kick and cheer, but Fred's expression showed no signs of any similar betrayal. Just as Dib had begun to wonder if his opponent was so used to being threatened and insulted that he no longer even noticed it any more, Fred stopped walking, turned to directly face his cheerleaders, and saluted them. The cheers, as well as the applause, rose even higher.

Of all the slights both large and small that Dib had endured over this stupid tournament, this was the final straw. Resting an elbow on the table and pushing his mouth into his hand, he stared straight down at the floor. His disappointment had by now curdled into cold, seething disgust. Why should he even bother? Would it be better to just stand up and walk out now, or to put up at least a brief show of trying to play? To forfeit or to throw, which would be less humiliating?

Suddenly an all too familiar voice broke into Dib's gloomy thoughts.

"Dibstink! You do not dare to face ZIM today! Zim knew you would be too afraid of Zim's brilliant plan of brilliantness!!"

Looking up, Dib barely had time to catch Zim's headlong dash through the gym just before the alien reached the table and jumped into the other chair as if it had been waiting for him all along.

"Get out of that chair, Zim." The alien's blustering was the last thing Dib felt like listening to right now.

"Zim will back down for NO ONE!"

"This is NOT here all for you, much as you like to think it is."

"Zim knows it's not here for any inferior human wormbaby - "

"Zim, you're making an idiot of yourself... even more than usual. If you WERE here to play chess, you'd be sitting in the seat I'M sitting in. In five seconds my big fat opponent is going to sit down on you, and you don't even know how to play chess!"

"Zim knows A-AA-AAALL!" Zim crowed, and began peering around the edges of the board as if looking for the on/off switch.

The shadow of Coach Walrus fell over the table. "Okay you, out of that seat!" When Zim still didn't move, the coach grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and carried him (raving and spluttering the whole time about wormbabies and earth filth and how normal he was) to the bleachers before dropping him onto an empty stretch of bench.

Zim immediately jumped up on his seat and continued to heckle Dib, shrieking that the Dibmonkey was no match for the mighty ZIM and was too afraid of defeat and humiliation to face ZIM on the inferior human table sized field of battle!

Fred now plopped his bulk down in the seat across the table from Dib and thumped two meaty fists down on the table, fists that Dib could now see had tattoos on the backs of them... tattoos of skulls. Great. As Coach Walrus waddled back to the table, he lifted to his great tusked mouth the whistle he would blow to start the match.

"Coward! Pitiful earthstink coward! Zim dares you to do battle with ZI-II-IIIM... !"

Dib frowned. That figured; that totally figured. The one spectator from his own skool who even knew he was there was hectoring him, and on top of that, nobody respected him enough to request quiet. That prattling from Zim would be all he...

The loud whistle blast startled everyone, jolting Dib's thoughts into a new direction. That was IT! Zim's badgering would be all he needed!

Dib frowned once more, but this time in concentration. He lowered his head to block out the fat, pimpled blob and stared at the chess board, nothing else. Zim's shrill, unflagging tirade would make it easy to visualize that the babbling alien was still seated in the chair opposite him. Finally, Dib was motivated, not just to win, but to sweep the gymnasium floor with his sworn enemy on the other side of the table.

The end.

--

_(A/N) In chess, the term "Double attack" means two attacks made with one move; one move with one piece can threaten two opposing pieces. (At least, that's what I think it means. I've played just a few games of chess.)_

_The expression also suggests being attacked by both known enemies AND those claiming to be one's allies... just as Dib often is in fanfics. _

_At the best of times, it can be difficult enough to find other Dib fans. What makes this even more difficult is that many who claim to like him often produce works that strongly suggest the exact opposite. Any main character must encounter SOME opposition, yes, or it would hardly be a story, but when it comes to Dib this is taken to unmatched and truly grotesque extremes._

_The treacherous cheerleaders are stand-ins for those who one minute claim they like Dib and the next minute acclaim (if not actually post) fics in which he dies in vain or is needlessly tortured in the most p__ainful way possible. THESE are the people who "like" him? They couldn't come up with worse if they hated him._

_I have very little expectation of finding an IZ fic that I can actually enjoy reading here any more. _


End file.
